


Smoke

by reona32



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Halloween, M/M, Spooky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2021-01-04 20:10:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21203375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reona32/pseuds/reona32
Summary: A late night encounter during a stakeout leaves Napoleon unsettled.





	Smoke

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Halloween

London always did have her own mystique; one that Napoleon could do without at the moment, as he shivered in the foggy chill. The narrow lane he was loitering in was dim and deserted. Across the street, the apartment building showed some signs of life. A couple windows had lights on and Napoleon could occasionally see a shadow pass by. The flat he was interested in remained dark and still, much to the brunet’s annoyance. 

A breeze whistled past and Napoleon huddled into his coat with a grumble. He fished his case from his pocket and placed the tip of a cigarette between his lips. A flick of his thumb and a small flame burst into life. A puff of smoke danced into the air as Napoleon exhaled. He’d probably catch flak from Illya, who was badgering him to quit, but such a miserable night called for some extra warmth.

“Can I have a cigarette?”

Napoleon turned, startled that someone had managed to get near him without his knowledge. A shadow of a man stood in the alleyway entrance nearby. Uneasiness tightened Napoleon’s chest but an amiable smile appeared on his face. “Sure.” Napoleon clicked open his case and held it out.

The stranger raised a hand and beckoned, “Can I have a cigarette?” Very little light from the streetlamps reached the alleyway and Napoleon couldn’t make out many features of the man. He was tall and wore a hat that didn’t help the gloom obscuring his face.

The sense of wrongness intensified. Napoleon didn’t move closer to the other person. He presented the cigarette case again. “You can have one,” he offered.

“Can I have a cigarette?” 

Napoleon was frowning now. The stranger’s voice was hollow, devoid of inflection. Fear was beginning to rise in the Uncle agent. Napoleon’s instincts were telling him he was in danger. The click of his lighter igniting was loud. Napoleon tossed the lit lighter, its tiny flame hardly breaching the darkness. He was already moving as the lighter sailed into the alleyway and he got just the impression of cockroaches scattering as he ran out of the lane and down the road.

It was a couple of streets away before Napoleon ran into another person. He skidded and the two caught each other. Napoleon easily recognized Illya, even if his blond hair was covered by a dark wool beanie. “Napoleon! What are you doing here?” the Russian demanded. They were not supposed to switch off surveillance positions for at least another hour. Illya frowned as he got a good look at his partner’s face. “What’s wrong? Were you seen?”

“Yes and no,” said Napoleon, grabbing Illya’s shoulder and hustling them further down the street.

“What is going on?”

“Tovarich, you wouldn’t believe me even if I told you.”

**

They went back to the lane the next morning. Napoleon found his lighter lying in the alleyway, fuel depleted. He picked it up and put it back in his pocket. The alleyway was a dead-end and empty except for some boarded up windows and doors to the buildings along it. The whole area made Napoleon anxious and he was glad to head up to the apartment he had been watching last night. The apartment was empty; their little Thrushie had flown the coop a long time ago. Napoleon sighed as he looked around the bare rooms. The whole stakeout had been a monumental waste of time.

The pair were out of sorts as they returned to the street. A cool wind swept down the road and Napoleon shivered as he buttoned up his coat. The door to the apartment building opened and a woman hurried out. She jerked herself to a stop with a gasp as she almost ran into the men. “Oh, I’m so sorry! I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

Napoleon smiled. “That’s alright, miss. We shouldn’t have been standing in the way.” Illya rolled his eyes, jamming his beanie over his head.

The woman chuckled, reaching up to tuck a strand of auburn hair behind her ear. “Then we’re both at fault. Don’t worry, I forgive you.”

“A weight off my shoulders for sure,” replied Napoleon. “I forgive you too.” The woman’s smile widened but her gaze darted over Napoleon’s shoulder to the lane and her face transformed into wariness. “Miss?” Napoleon asked in concern.

She looked back at Napoleon, her lips twitching apologetically. “Sorry. I thought I saw… Well, never mind.”

Illya cocked his head. “You saw something in the lane just now?”

“I… well, no.” She smiled again, eyes turning mischievous. “My roommate says that a monster lurks in the alleyway, tempting people close and then snatching them away. They are never seen again.” The woman giggled. “Such nonsense, really. She was just trying to scare me.”

Napoleon’s smile became strained. “Indeed,” he agreed.

Sensing the change in mood, the woman cleared her throat. “Well, I need to be on my way. It was nice to meet you both.”

“You as well,” Napoleon said as she began to walk away. Illya looked at the lane with a frown and then turned to his partner. “Not one word,” the brunet hissed, cutting Illya off. 

Illya smirked. “Do you not want to go looking for the monster?” he teased.

“Illya.”

The blond sobered. That was a tone of voice that Illya knew meant his partner was serious and not in a joking mood. He glanced toward the lane again. “Perhaps we should check, anyway?”

“I sincerely do not want to,” grumbled Napoleon. But he followed the Russian into the lane. The alleyway was just as dirty and empty as it had been before. The pair walked slowly along it, checking boarded up windows and sealed doors. The dumpster was empty, if foul smelling, and the bits of trash and debris along the ground uninterested. A light at the end of the alleyway was broken.

Illya could find no footprints, no sign that another person had ever been there. He could not even find the signs of rats and animals that usually frequented such places in a city, which he found strange in and of itself. Napoleon had already retreated back to the lane and Illya joined him. Something about that alleyway had unsettled Napoleon and Illya was displeased not to know why.

“Breakfast?” Napoleon suggested hopefully. “There is a lovely coffeehouse by Saint James Park. My treat.”

Illya relented, seeing how much the brunet wished this to be over. “Yes, breakfast sounds good.” He followed Napoleon out onto the street, glancing back over his shoulder at the alleyway as they turned the corner. It seemed the monster in the alleyway would always remain a mystery.


End file.
